


H.A.G.S. (Hogwarts Alliance for Gender and Sexuality)

by maraudersaffair



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coming Out, Duelling, First Time, Fluff and Humor, Gay Harry Potter, H/D Sex Fair 2020, Hand Jobs, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Jealousy, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining Harry Potter, Rutting, Semi-Public Sex, Sexuality, Snogging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26450509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersaffair/pseuds/maraudersaffair
Summary: When Hermione decides Hogwarts needs a LGBTQIA+ club, of course Ron and Harry are roped into helping. After a rocky start, Harry begins seeing the club as an opportunity to educate students and celebrate diversity and sexuality at Hogwarts. He also starts seeing it as an opportunity to snog Draco Malfoy.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 78
Kudos: 572
Collections: 2020 Harry/Draco Sex Fair





	H.A.G.S. (Hogwarts Alliance for Gender and Sexuality)

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt #[53](https://docs.google.com/document/d/12_5f6f0xUXhqtWfMlhXRyA8kDC3KGShN3oa_IOD12DY/edit#). _Hermione decided that Hogwarts needed an LGBTQIA+ club to educate and celebrate the diversity and sexuality of the students at Hogwarts. Obviously, Ron and Harry were roped into helping out. It was a successful endeavour (surprisingly), however, they were unable to reach out to the Slytherins (due to post-war stigma perhaps). It is up to Harry and his friends to show the rest of Hogwarts, and to the Slytherins, that it is time for a change. (Little does Harry know, a certain grey-eyed Slytherin will open up his eyes to a whole new world.)_ Thank you for such a lovely prompt! <3
> 
> Also a big thanks to my beta, L!

“This school has a problem.” Hermione stood, hands on her hips, in the middle of the Gryffindor common room.

Harry and Ron were at a crucial moment in a long chess match and didn’t pay attention to her. Huffing, Hermione cast a bubble barrier around the chess board.

“Hey!” Ron said.

“I was just about to win!” Harry spotted Hermione’s expression and grew somber. “What’s the matter?”

“Were you aware that we attend a school _bursting_ with homophobes?”

They blinked at her. “What?” Ron said.

“Homophobes, Ronald. I’m sure you have heard the word before.”

Harry blushed deeply. “Hermione - please. This is unnecessary.”

She looked like he’d just admitted to poisoning Crookshanks. “Of course it’s necessary!” she bellowed, a fervent gleam in her eye.

“I’m just one bloke who happens to be gay,” Harry said. “I’m not trying to change the mind of the whole school.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Harry, for once, perhaps I’m not talking about you?”

Harry didn’t think that was entirely fair. It was only a couple of months ago that he had “come out” to his mates. He had yet to even tell Mr and Mrs Weasley, whom he considered to be virtually his parents.

Reading his expression, Hermione said, “I’m also talking about me, I’m talking about Ron.”

“I’m not gay!” Ron said.

“Yes, but you do fancy Viktor Krum.”

Ron shrugged. “True.”

“And I’m a proud bisexual,” Hermione said.

“But she’s still dating me!” Ron said quickly.

Hermione sighed. “Yes, Ron. We are still dating. I don’t think you need to announce it every time I talk about my sexuality.”

“I’m just making sure everyone is clear about it, especially that Bulstrode.”

Hermione smiled. “I do find Bulstrode quite fit, but that’s beside the point. We need to _do something_ about the homophobes and the discrimination.”

“What do you want to do?” Harry said hesitantly.

It was their eighth and final year at Hogwarts, and Harry just wanted to enjoy himself … get to know himself. Realising he was gay had been quite the shock over summer, and he was still trying to figure out how he had missed such a big detail about himself. Now Hermione wanted to go on some _crusade_ to rid the student population of homophobia and Harry honestly didn’t know if he was up to it.

“I want to start a LGBTQIA club,” Hermione said. “It could be like Dumbledore’s Army but without all the secrecy!”

Harry was a little amused. “What would we teach members? How to defend themselves against hate?”

“We will teach them how to be good allies! We will teach them how to _thrive_ even when they are surrounded by people who don’t respect or acknowledge their existence.”

“But we’re not mind healers,” Ron said. “Don’t we need proper training for that sort of thing?”

Something frightening occurred to Harry. “Not many people know that I’m … you know. Won’t everyone know after I help start this club?”

When Hermione looked at him, her eyes were quite sad, but then she seemed to realise that she was being patronizing and shook herself. “You needn’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable. That goes for you too, Ronald. I’m perfectly capable of running this club by myself.”

Ron snorted. “No, you’re not. You’re studying for about a million NEWTs right now.”

Hermione glared at him. “Are you really doubting my abilities after everything I did for the war last year?”

“Of course not, love,” Ron said, more gently this time. “You can do anything you put your mind to … I just think you deserve to enjoy your last year at Hogwarts a little and - and remember what happened third year?”

“I agree with Ron,” Harry added. “The war is over. We all deserve some peace and quiet.”

Hermione chewed her bottom lip. “Fine - I won’t do it without your help … but I really want to do it, so will you please, please help me?”

Ron and Harry looked at each other, not convinced. Harry didn’t want the entire school knowing about his sexual preference, but maybe he could get away with just _supporting_ the club, not being its centre of attention.

“Think of all the first and second years you could _save_ ,” Hermione said. “They need us to show them what they can achieve, how it’s possible to accept themselves just the way they are.”

“Merlin,” Ron muttered. “It sure does sound like we’re going to be mind healers.”

“What do you say?” Hermione said hopefully.

“Okay,” Harry said.

Ron gulped. “Yeah, all right.”

Hermione beamed.

*

They held their first meeting two weeks later on an evening plagued by a growling thunderstorm. It was late autumn, and bitter drafts were already sneaking into the old castle.

Harry was overwhelmed by homework. He wanted to do well on his NEWTs and in his studies, but he was still transitioning from war survivor to eighth year student. It felt like the last year had wiped out his ability to sit still and pay attention in class.

The person who seemed to be excelling at his studies was Draco Malfoy. Not that Harry noticed. They didn’t interact very much, and Harry was far, far too busy to think about Malfoy.

Malfoy had changed over the summer. He seemed more comfortable in his own skin. He was still a git, but he wasn’t a bully anymore. In fact, he never even acknowledged Harry’s presence, which was totally fine by Harry. Harry didn’t want or need Malfoy’s acknowledgement. Malfoy meant _nothing_ to him.

They used an old dusty classroom in the dungeons for their first meeting. Hermione had hoped the location would encourage the Slytherins to attend.

Hermione had spent the last two weeks putting up posters and giving out fliers. Ron and Harry had chipped in whenever they could, but Harry had struggled the most. Students actually _gaped_ at him when they realised what he was advertising. He saw their understanding of him shift in real time, and it made him nauseated. Still, he cracked on.

Hermione had worried the classroom wasn’t big enough, but as it turned out, only five other students actually showed: Bulstrode (to Ron’s dismay), Ginny, Luna, Neville, and Tony Goldstein. Tony caught Harry’s eye and winked at him, and Harry flushed.

“Welcome!” Hermione said once the small group was situated at rusty desks. She struggled not to show her disappointment. “Thank you for attending the first meeting of HAGS!”

The group stared at her.

“HAGS, of course, stands for Hogwarts Alliance for Gender and Sexuality.” Hermione gave them a big smile. “I’m open to suggestions for other names. I admit the name I came up with is a tad vague.”

Neville raised his hand, looking a little timid. “I’m not sure if I understand the name … isn’t gender and sexuality the same thing?”

Harry hadn’t thought it was possible, but Hermione’s smile actually _brightened_. “That is a great place to start, Neville. Sexuality and gender are not the same thing. Here, I’ve brought handouts. Let’s begin with not sexuality, but _sex_ , which shouldn’t be confused with gender.”

When the meeting was over, Harry fled before Goldstein could approach him. Goldstein had been staring at him for the whole meeting and Harry wasn’t ready for _that_ conversation. Goldstein was fit enough but Harry wasn’t really interested in him. Harry went to the library, even though it was late. The first person he saw was Malfoy.

Malfoy’s white blond hair gleamed in the candlelight. He was absorbed by the enormous textbook he was reading, a small frown on his face.

Harry was so distracted by Malfoy that he ran into a trolley of books, knocking everything to the ground and causing a loud crash.

Irritated, Malfoy looked up and he raised an eyebrow when he saw it was Harry who had disrupted him.

“Sorry,” Harry said, quickly righting the trolley and books with his wand. He didn’t want to face the wrath of Madam Pince.

Malfoy smirked, enjoying Harry’s embarrassment entirely too much, his grey eyes bright with mirth. “Piss off,” Harry said, and marched away. Harry didn’t really know where he was going.

He had so much homework to do, so many textbooks to read, so many exams to study for. He wandered to a table, dropping his overloaded bag to the floor. He stared at the beaten up wood of the table, not really seeing. His mind was completely blank.

There was rustling behind him. Harry glanced over his shoulder; a small child stood behind him, gazing at him like he was Merlin himself.

“Where are your parents?” Harry asked stupidly.

“W-what?” said the child. “I’m eleven. I go here.”

 _You look like you’re five_ , he thought. He said, “Can I help you with something?” He meant to ask it gently but he sounded hostile.

The child paled, but mustering some courage, retrieved something from their pocket and handed it to Harry. It was a crumpled up flier for HAGS.

“People are saying - they are saying you are a pouf.”

“Don’t say that word.”

The child raised their chin. “Why not?”

Harry hesitated. “What’s your name?”

Biting their lip, the child said, “That’s a complicated question.”

“I see.” Harry pushed back a chair. “Would you like to sit down?”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” the child said, panicking a bit. “I just wanted to know if it’s true.”

Harry smoothed his thumb over the soft paper of the flier, thinking, summoning all his Gryffindor courage. “Yes,” he said quietly. “It’s true.”

The child beamed. “Wow! That’s _brilliant_.”

“I guess.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck.

“I can’t believe it,” the child said dreamily.

Harry stood and grabbed his bag. “Err - glad I could make your night. I have to go now.”

“Yeah,” the child said, stepping away quickly. “I’m sure you got loads of important things to do.”

Harry walked away. He didn’t see Malfoy on his way out of the library.

*

The next morning arrived with a low rumble. Harry lay in his four poster bed, allowing himself to wake up slowly. He could tell by the milky sunlight streaming in through a window that it was still early.

He thought about white blond hair and a thin smirking mouth. He never thought he’d be into blondes, but he also never thought he’d be into men, so life was full of surprises.

He thought about that little first year. Had the child been taking the piss? He didn’t think so; but he also didn’t understand the child’s intentions. He didn’t think anyone so young could care about gender and sexuality.

When Hermione introduced the idea of the club, Harry had been weary and a little frightened; but now he felt something inside him hardening, strengthening. Who cared if the school knew about his sexuality? Did Harry really want to spend his life hiding?

The alarm on his wand went off. He crawled from bed and headed to the loo.

Defence was his first class of the day, which was a good and bad thing. He enjoyed Defence - it was his favourite class - but it was difficult to fully pay attention when his body was still waking up.

To make matters worse, Malfoy was also in the class. Not that Harry _cared_. He barely even _looked_ at Malfoy.

The new DADA professor was … interesting. Professor Whiteshank looked a lot like Moody, and she was a grizzly old Auror like him, too. She had two missing fingers on her wand hand, and a nasty purple scar tugged on her right bottom eyelid. If Harry had been younger, he was sure he would’ve been intimidated by her, but after everything he experienced in the war, he just felt a deep respect and a mild fondness for her. Professor Whiteshank was someone who had saved a lot of people.

The DADA classroom was all shadows and spitting candles. Professor Whiteshank obviously didn’t like open windows, and the day was too gloomy for any sunlight to weasel in through the shutters.

“Good morning!” she said, voice booming. She stalked the front of the classroom, wand in hand and two daggers clipped to her hips.

The eighth years watched her with hungry looks in their eyes. Every one of them understood how important it was to know how to defend themselves against the dark arts.

She grinned at them, and it looked more like a grimace. “Today is all about dueling. We shall pair up - don’t worry, I’ve selected the pairs so you needn’t worry about cursing your best mate. We will pair up and _practise_ , understand? I want everyone to leave here with all four of their limbs entract.” She began to call out the pairs, and Harry eyed the other students. He wouldn’t mind being paired up with most of them … except for Malfoy. He really, really didn’t want to duel Malfoy.

“Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy,” she announced. Harry’s heart sank.

He and Malfoy wandered to a corner away from the rest of the students. They stared at one another. Harry couldn’t help but look at Malfoy’s mouth.

Malfoy was flushed a deep red. His eyes glittered.

“All right?” Harry said.

Malfoy gritted his teeth. “You’re going to win today, but don’t think I can’t defeat you. I can.”

“Maybe I won’t win,” Harry said.

“Before you begin - Weasley and Bulstrode, I didn’t tell you to start yet! Before you begin, remember I’m looking for both strong offensive and defensive forms. I’m looking for nonverbal spells. Don’t choreograph your next move to your partner. You want them to be surprised. And always remember that defence is better than offence. _Now_ you may begin.”

“ _Expelliarmus_!” Harry said, but Malfoy blocked the spell.

“Predictable,” Malfoy snarled, then yelled, “ _Entomorphis_!”

Harry threw himself out of the way. They circled each other, wands at the ready. For some reason, Harry was smiling.

“What’s so funny, Potter?” Malfoy said.

 _Petrificus Totalus_ , Harry thought, but at the same time Malfoy yelled, “ _Protego Maxima_!”

A large pearly barrier stood between them. Malfoy smirked, and Harry’s stomach fluttered.

“Well done, Draco!” Professor Whiteshank said. “Ten points to Slytherin!”

Malfoy barely acknowledged the accolades. He was staring Harry down, challenging him to do something. Harry blew him a kiss.

Malfoy’s eyes went wide. While he was distracted, Harry yelled, “ _Finis Protego_!” The barrier trembled but didn’t disappear. Harry then tried, “ _Finis Incantatio_!”

The barrier shattered, but Malfoy was ready: “ _Puris Maxima_!” The spell hit Harry directly in the face and he staggered back. Yellow pus oozed from Harry’s mouth, his nose; he could barely breathe.

Harry fell to his hands and knees. He gasped and coughed, trying to clear his throat. He knew how to cancel the spell; he just needed to whisper the two words.

“Fuck,” Malfoy said. He crouched down beside Harry, which was the wrong thing to do. Harry thought, _Finis puris maxima_ , then _Locomotor Wibbly_.

Malfoy fell onto his back, his long legs utterly useless. Harry stood over him, his wand pointed at Malfoy’s chest. He tried to wipe the pus off his face.

“Is this when you let me win?” Harry said.

“Fuck you.” Malfoy whispered so Whiteshank didn’t hear him.

“Get up,” Harry said. “We both know you have more fight in you.”

“No.”

Harry leaned closer. With all the pus on his face, he expected to revolt Malfoy, but Malfoy didn’t try to get away. Harry was close enough to whisper in Malfoy’s ear: “You’re not scared, are you?”

Malfoy went very still; well, his upper body went still. Harry cancelled the jelly-leg spell and offered Malfoy his hand. Blinking, Malfoy took it and Harry hauled him to his feet.

With Malfoy standing again, Harry was able to stare directly into his eyes. They were nice eyes - _gorgeous_ eyes. Malfoy’s cheeks turned pink.

“Let go of my hand, Potter,” Malfoy said softly. Harry hadn’t realised he was still holding it.

The other students still battled around them, but Harry and Malfoy stood motionless, too close, staring at each other. Harry didn’t know what it meant.

“Did someone tell you?” Malfoy murmured.

“Tell me what?”

Malfoy looked at Harry’s mouth, then into his eyes. Harry could see his heartbeat throbbing in his pale neck. For some reason, Malfoy was nervous.

Professor Whiteshank called their attention back. Ron and Bulstrode were rolling on the floor, throwing punches. Whiteshank broke them up with a lazy spell. “Most of you did well,” she said. “Did anyone else see Draco’s expert barrier?”

Malfoy jumped away from Harry. His expression went utterly blank as the class stared at him. Across the room, Hermione looked jealous. It was obvious she wanted Professor Whiteshank to compliment her as well.

“It was the best spell I’ve ever seen!” Goyle said.

Bulstrode nodded. “Everyone knows Draco is tops at dueling.”

“That’s news to me!” Ron said, still nursing a bloody nose. “Harry is the best wizard of our generation!”

“No,” Harry said, “Malfoy’s spells were better than mine.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Malfoy said quickly. “Potter was the winner.”

“I disagree,” Professor Whiteshank said, sounding a little tired. “All right, everyone back to their seats!”

The desks soared back into order with a wave of Whiteshank’s wand. They sat back down and took out their textbooks.

“For the remainder of class, we will discuss the advantages and disadvantages of the Protego Maxima spell.”

Harry tried to pay attention, but all he could do was stare at the back of Malfoy’s white blond head.

*

“Ronald, hold still,” Hermione said.

“Mum never needed to _prod_ the injury!”

“Ronald - it’s just the tip of my wand. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“What if the tip goes up my nose? That bitch Bulstrode -”

“Don’t call women that,” she growled.

Ron huffed and held himself still in the chair as Hermione delicately fixed his nose by touching her wand to the bone. Ron sighed in relief.

Harry watched from a chair by the fire. It was late afternoon, and Ron had suffered through classes with an achy nose that wouldn’t take to a mending spell. Hours later, Harry was still thinking about Malfoy. He wondered what Malfoy was doing at that very moment. He checked his magical watch. It was almost dinnertime - Malfoy was probably already down in the Great Hall.

Hermione took up the chair opposite Harry. “Now that Ron’s done being a baby and calling women names, I need to talk to you two before we head down to dinner.”

“Oi! I was choking on my own blood!” Ron said.

“Is this about the club?” Harry said distractedly. He couldn’t believe he had blown Malfoy a _kiss_. In the moment, it’d seemed like a good idea, a total lark; but now Harry felt … _nervous_. He felt like he had revealed too much of himself.

“Five students attending our meetings just will not do,” Hermione said.

“What do you reckon we need to do next?” Ron said.

Hermione thought for a moment. “We need to up the ante. We need to garner more attention for our club by any means necessary.”

“There’s definitely interest,” Harry said, remembering the little first year. “Maybe people are too scared or intimidated to attend.”

“Yes,” Hermione said, nodding quickly. “We need to do something to empower them! No one should be _scared_ to attend a gender and sexuality club. We need to _demonstrate_ our own empowerment … we need to inspire people.”

Ron was glowering. “So what? Do you want to snog Bulstrode in front of the whole school or something?”

“Is that why you were acting moronic during Defence?” Hermione said. “I admitted that I’m attracted to her so therefore she deserves to be thrashed?”

“We were dueling!” Ron said, ears red. “She threw the first punch!”

Hermione put her nose in the air. “It was merely practise. You didn’t have to act _uncivil_ to her.”

Harry didn’t fancy sticking around for the rest of their row. “I need the toilet. I’ll see you lot at dinner.”

“Harry always needs the toilet when you are chastising me, Hermione!” Ron said. “ _He_ doesn’t even like being around you when you get like this!”

Grabbing his bag, Harry hurried through the portrait hole. He didn’t need the toilet, but he did have a lot to think about. Hermione wanted them to _demonstrate_ their sexuality and acceptance to the rest of the school. What the bloody hell did that mean?

He wasn’t paying attention to where he was going. His mind was full of images. It wasn’t so long ago that he thought he was straight. It wasn’t so long ago that he thought he was in love with Ginny.

A couple of staircases moved on him but he didn’t care. He knew the castle inside and out. Most of the corridors were empty.

Harry turned a corner, his head down, and ran right into somebody, their chests knocking together. He looked up and couldn’t believe his eyes. It was Malfoy. It was like the castle knew Harry had been thinking of him.

For a moment, Malfoy looked angry, like Harry had run into him on purpose. Then he seemed to recognise who stood in front of him.

“Oh,” Malfoy said.

“Sorry - I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“You’re blushing.”

Harry touched his warm cheek. It was true. He had no idea what to say to Malfoy. “What are you doing up here?”

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. “Are you following me again, Potter? Do you think I’m _up to something_?”

“No! I just - you know - don’t go up here often.”

“That’s nice.” Malfoy tried to walk away but Harry grabbed his arm. They both looked at Harry’s hand wrapped around his arm. Malfoy bit his lip.

“Sorry,” Harry said, letting him go. He didn’t know why he was apologising so much.

Harry fell silent. He was staring at Malfoy, but he didn’t want to look away. Malfoy was a touch taller than him. His eyes were bright; they almost looked silver.

Malfoy stared back at Harry. It was strange to be this close to him, to share this moment with him, to be _alone_ with him. Before this year, Harry had rarely been alone with Malfoy, and Malfoy had always been sneering at him or calling him rude names. Malfoy wasn’t doing that now. He had a handsome face when it wasn’t all scrunched up with hate.

“Go flying with me,” Harry said suddenly.

Malfoy’s mouth fell open. “What?”

Harry faltered, losing a bit of his confidence. “You still fly, don’t you?” He thought about what happened in the Room of Requirement. “I mean, if it doesn’t trigger you or anything.”

“Trigger me?” Malfoy’s expression hardened.

“I’m not - that’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry took a deep breath. “Um, I’m not sure. I just want you to go flying with me.”

Malfoy looked him over. After a moment, he relaxed. “Sometimes I forget that you don’t think like a Slytherin. I forget you are so … _earnest_.”

“Earnest?” Harry’s mouth curled into a soft smile. Malfoy watched his mouth.

“Yeah … earnest. I don’t want to be your charity case, Potter.”

Harry laughed, thinking about their duel. “You could never be my charity case.”

They were now standing incredibly close. Harry wanted to touch him; he wanted to make him laugh. A couple of younger students passed them, and they stared at Harry and Malfoy. This made Malfoy step back from Harry.

“Maybe next time, Potter.”

“Wait.” Harry grabbed his shoulder again, but Malfoy yanked away from him.

“What do you think this is?” Malfoy hissed. “Do you think we can be mates or something?”

Harry blinked. “Yeah … why not?”

“ _Why not_?” Malfoy said, astonished, voice clipped.

“Hell, Malfoy,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ve been through so much … so many people lost …”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Yeah, me either. I’m just trying to make a point.”

Malfoy suddenly looked furious, and Harry couldn’t understand why. “Again, Potter, I don’t want to be your charity case. I don’t want or need your _pity_.”

“Is it so crazy to think I want to be your friend?”

A series of different emotions flashed across Malfoy’s face. He sneered, looking like he wanted to say something rude, but then something in him deflated. “I offered my friendship to you when we were eleven years old. You turned me down.”

Harry was growing a bit exasperated. He didn’t fully understand his own intentions, and he was surprised by his own determination. “Obviously things have changed. We’re not eleven anymore. The war is … finally over.” His voice broke over the last few words.

Malfoy threw his hands up. “ _Fine_. I’ll go flying with you.”

Harry blinked. “Right now?”

“Oh, fuck off.” Malfoy shoved Harry aside but Harry grabbed him again.

“Yes - _yes_ ,” Harry said, feeling his excitement all the way down in his toes. “Sorry, I’m just surprised you agreed to it. Let’s go flying.” He didn’t let go, and remarkably Malfoy allowed Harry to drag him down the corridor. They turned a corner and Harry released him. “Come on, Malfoy. Keep up.”

Malfoy put his nose in the air but he followed Harry outside to the darkening pitch. There was a little shed at the edge of the pitch that contained old flying brooms. Harry flicked off a couple of spiders and grabbed two brooms for them.

“Here,” Harry said, shoving one into Malfoy’s hands. “Both brooms are old. It guarantees that we will start on equal ground.”

Malfoy looked suspicious as he examined his broom. He paused over the broken and missing bristles. He raised a sleek eyebrow at Harry, and Harry’s stomach flip-flopped.

“What?” Harry said.

“Your broom has more bristles than mine.”

“You can’t possibly know that!”

“I do. It has more bristles than mine.”

Huffing, Harry swapped their brooms. “Are you happy now?”

Malfoy opened his mouth. “Oh, bugger off!” Harry said.

They kicked off, soaring into the air. Harry had pocketed a Snitch but he wasn’t sure if he would release it. He didn’t want to compete with Malfoy, not right now. He wanted … he wanted to get to know him.

They flew laps around the pitch, the air cold and wet. Clouds were rolling in, and the sky looked like dark milky tea. Harry slowed his broom so he could get a good look at Malfoy. Malfoy’s hair was windswept and his cheeks were flushed from the cold. He was enjoying himself, Harry could tell.

“You’re smiling,” Harry said.

“No, I’m not.”

Harry knocked their brooms together good-naturedly. “Is this bringing back fond memories of when I kicked your arse?”

“Actually, I was remembering when I bloodied your nose down there on the pitch. When was that? Fifth year?”

Harry almost brought up how Malfoy had stomped on his face but he didn’t. “That row was definitely a tie. I got in some good punches, too.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I did!”

“No.” Malfoy had put his nose in the air again, and Harry just looked at him. He knew he was being weird, but he didn’t care. He had no idea how he’d used to be able to ignore how damn fit Malfoy was.

“I like being up here with you.”

“That’s great, Potter,” Malfoy said sarcastically.

“No, really. It’s strange, but I like spending time with you.”

Malfoy looked away. “It is strange.”

An ominous crack of thunder came from above the Dark Forest. They both turned to watch lightning split the sky.

“We should go inside,” Malfoy said.

“Yes.” Harry was disappointed.

They dropped back to the ground and trudged to the shed to put away their brooms. Malfoy radiated heat after their exercise and Harry wanted to pull him into the small shed and slam the door closed. He wanted to shove Malfoy against the wall and press their bodies together. He wanted -

“Come on,” Malfoy said.

They headed back to the castle, but Harry grabbed Malfoy’s wrist and dragged him into a doorway of the stadium. They sat on a rickety, narrow staircase that led up to the soaring seats.

Harry didn’t know what to say. It was dark and Malfoy was a warm shadow next to him. Malfoy cast a _Lumos_ and had his wand hover in the air. The light chased away only a few of the shadows.

“I can’t believe we’re sitting here together.” Harry laughed shakily.

“Me either.”

There was so much Harry wanted to say to Malfoy. Most of it was a mood killer. Harry opened his mouth.

“No,” Malfoy hissed.

“I wanted to say thank you.”

“ _No._ ”

“You’ve changed,” Harry said, trying to get at what he wanted to say without actually saying it.

Malfoy snorted. “Of course I’ve changed.”

“You used to hate me.”

“I still hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Harry said.

Malfoy sighed.

“How are your parents?”

“Fucking hell.”

“What? You don’t want to talk about them?”

“My father’s in Azkaban. Of course I don’t want to talk about them.”

“What about your mum? I hope she’s well … we couldn’t have won the war without her help.”

“Stop!” Malfoy sounded stricken. “I don’t want to talk about any of it.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Nothing.”

“You used to talk all the time. You would never shut up about how stupid you thought I was.”

“What do you want from me, Potter?” Malfoy now vibrated with anger. “Do you want me to say that I was an idiot? That I was cruel and selfish and cowardly? Is that why you dragged me in here? Is that why you keep _touching_ me?”

“I’m gay,” Harry said.

Malfoy went still. Harry couldn’t read his expression, it was too dark, but he heard his breathing quicken.

Harry felt like he was flying through the air without a broom. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I just want to be around you.”

“There’s no way,” Malfoy said faintly.

“What do you mean?”

“You - what about Ginny Weasley? What about Cho Chang?”

Harry’s heart was in his throat. “What about _you_?”

“Pardon?”

“I thought you and Parkinson were dating.”

Malfoy laughed roughly. “No.”

Harry turned to him. He touched his knee gently and leaned close. “Malfoy.”

Malfoy stood abruptly. “I need to get back. I don’t want to miss dinner.”

“Okay.” He thought about following Malfoy back to the castle, then thought better of it. “See you around.”

*

The next day arrived with icy weak sunshine. After their classes, Harry, Ron and Hermione huddled close to the common room fire, trying to drive away the castle chill from their bones.

Harry stared into the popping flames, thinking about Malfoy. He had almost kissed Malfoy last night, which was _mad_. He had no idea how he’d gone from never thinking about the blasted Slytherin to wanting to snog him. Harry blamed Malfoy’s mouth, his devilishly enticing smirks. He blamed his own desperate need to touch a bloke.

Harry had been such a disaster with girls. He’d been clueless, a bit dispassionate; he hadn’t understood what the fuss was all about. Now he knew. Now he knew why he’d been so clueless, why he couldn’t be bothered to properly read girls. He knew why over the years Malfoy had driven him _crazy_.

“I have an idea,” Hermione said.

Ron and Harry looked at her suspiciously.

“We should do something in the Great Hall, a demonstration.”

“What kind of demonstration?” Ron said, and Harry knew he was thinking about Bulstrode.

“It should be something simple but effective … maybe we can ask two boys to hold hands while they walk into the Great Hall.”

Ron and Harry traded looks. “I wouldn’t mind holding Harry’s hand,” Ron said.

“No, no,” Hermione said. “No one would think you two were in a relationship. They would think it was a lark.”

Harry thought about Malfoy. His heart was suddenly beating fast. “I could ask another bloke to hold my hand.”

“Yeah, I bet Neville would do it!” Ron said.

Hermione shook her head. “No, it has to be someone who isn’t your friend, Harry.” She cocked her head to the side. “Are you sure you want to do this? Didn’t you say you had doubts about others knowing you were gay?”

“It’s kind of too late for that, isn’t it?” Harry said. Once again, he thought about that little first year who approached him in the library. “I want to do this for other people … for the students who might be too afraid to be their true selves.”

“What about Anthony Goldstein?” Hermione said.

Harry blinked. “What?”

“I bet he would hold your hand in front of the school! He seemed very willing during the meeting.”

Harry opened and closed his mouth. He was imagining holding Malfoy’s hand and walking into the Great Hall, but of course that was impossible: Malfoy would never hold his hand, let alone in front of the whole school.

“Okay, but I need to make it clear to Goldstein that holding his hand … doesn’t mean anything.”

Hermione and Ron raised their eyebrows at him. “Maybe we should be the ones to ask him, not you?” she said.

“No, no,” Harry said, now determined to go through with it. “It will be fine. I’ll just talk to him.”

*

Later that night, Harry caught up with Goldstein right before they walked into the Great Hall for dinner. He caught Goldstein’s eye and nodded to an empty alcove.

Excited, Goldstein followed him. Once in the alcove, Harry looked at Goldstein, then looked down at their feet. Their shoes were almost touching, which meant their bodies were almost touching. Harry took a step back.

“So. Goldstein.”

“Tony, please.”

Harry cleared his throat. “Yes, Tony. I have a request … strictly for the club.”

Goldstein’s expression fell. “Yeah?”

Harry was losing his nerve. This was a lot harder than he thought it would be. Embarrassed, Harry rubbed the back of his neck and stared down at his feet - now alone.

“Um. You see, Hermione had an idea.”

“Oh?”

“Yes … you see … she wanted to make more of an impact … draw more attention to the club. She thought it would be a good idea if … you know … two blokes held … hands in front of the school.”

“I see.”

Harry glanced up at him. “Do you want to hold my hand and walk into the Great Hall? Right now?”

Goldstein’s eyebrows shot up. “If we do that, won’t the school think we are together?”

“Yeah … that’s kind of the point. But we wouldn’t be together. It would just be for the … attention.”

Goldstein looked thoughtful. “You always said you didn’t do all those heroic things for the attention but now I’m not so sure.”

Harry gritted his teeth. “This is different. The whole point is for it to be public.”

Goldstein looked him up and down, his expression turning from thoughtful to something warmer. “Yes, all right. Let’s do it.” He grabbed Harry’s hand, and Harry shivered: Goldstein’s touch was like ice.

They strode toward the impressive double doors of the Great Hall. A gaggle of third years parted for them as they entered the hall, every set of eyes on them.

They walked down the centre aisle, between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. Harry held his head high even though his cheeks were on fire. At first, not many people paid them attention; but then people caught sight of them and nudged their neighbours, and the whispers began.

It felt like it took a million years for them to reach the head of the Great Hall. Harry felt a bit dizzy; he could feel his heart trying to pound its way through his chest.

He and Goldstein paused at the end of the Gryffindor table. They pretended to be immersed in conversation, heads bent close and still holding hands. Goldstein played it up; he was flushed and excited, and he laughed fondly at everything Harry said. He wouldn’t stop gazing meaningfully into Harry’s eyes.

Harry looked beyond his shoulder in search of Malfoy. When he found him, he almost gasped. Malfoy was staring daggers at them. He looked _enraged_ , like his wand was about to accidentally cause a fireball storm over the Slytherin table. Harry couldn’t look away. He wanted to go to Malfoy. He wanted to kiss him and tell him this whole thing with Goldstein was phoney.

“Harry,” Goldstein said softly, and touched his cheek. Malfoy’s eyes narrowed.

“Yes, thank you,” Harry said politely. He stepped back and released Goldstein’s hand. “Let’s find our seats.”

Crestfallen, Goldstein nodded and followed Harry to two open chairs next to Hermione and Ron.

“Very good!” Hermione whispered excitedly.

Harry drank deeply from his pumpkin juice. He looked back over at the Slytherin table, but heads now obscured his view of Malfoy. Damnit.

“I have another plan,” Hermione said, looking at Goldstein, Harry, and Ron. “How do you lot feel about speaking in front of classes?”

*

On the following Monday, Harry began visiting classes to promote HAGS. His first visits were awkward and stilted; Harry tried to explain the merits of such a club and to talk a bit about his own experience of coming out, but it was difficult to talk about something he was in the middle of. He saw people’s shock when he said the words “I am gay” and it made him angry because he knew most of them were thinking, “But heroes can’t be gay!”

Then on Monday afternoon, Harry popped by a second year potion’s class only to see that Malfoy was in the back of the room. Harry didn’t understand: Malfoy had no business being in a second year’s class.

Professor Slughorn saw Harry staring at Malfoy and explained. “Draco’s terrific at potions, you know. Not as good as you, of course. But he’s good. He has teaching ambitions and asked if he could help out in some of my classes. How could I say no? I’m not getting any younger!”

“That’s brilliant,” Harry said stupidly. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from Malfoy, but Malfoy wouldn’t look at him.

Professor Slughorn drew closer. “But don’t worry, Harry, about running into him at my next tea party. I could never invite a former Death Eater.” He gave a ridiculous shudder.

“Oh, that’s unfortunate,” Harry said, “because the thing is I would only come _if_ Malfoy was invited.” Harry trudged to the front of the class and began his spiel.

On Tuesday, they held their next HAGS meeting and the cold dungeon classroom was packed. Harry spotted the little first year from the library and gave them a thumbs up. Harry looked and looked, but didn’t see Malfoy. His hopes sank.

Hermione was virtually floating she was so happy. She had come equipped with a magical projector and a lesson on gender and sexuality 101; then she conducted two rounds of trivia, with the winners earning gift cards to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Everybody loved WWW and the trivia turned out to be quite competitive.

Harry spent the meeting thinking about Malfoy, then thinking about how he could improve his testimonial to classes. He liked seeing Hermione so happy, and he liked seeing so many students show up to a HAGS meeting. He wanted to improve the attendance … he wanted his testimonial to be so good that it got even Malfoy to show up to a meeting.

It was the next day that Harry got his chance to once again speak in front of Malfoy. It was at the beginning of Defence and Professor Whiteshank was kind enough to give Harry a few minutes to promote the club. Hermione squeezed his hand and Ron smiled at him encouragingly before he walked to the front of the gloomy classroom.

It was about a million times more difficult to talk about his sexual identity in front of students his own age. He gazed around at the faces he knew so well. Some of them had even followed him into battle, and Harry wanted to show them his true self.

Taking a deep breath, Harry said, “So, hi. You know me. I know you.” He laughed nervously. “I’m up here talking because Hermione, Ron, and I founded a new club … we founded the club because we wanted to address a problem at this school. You see, I identify as gay. That might come as a surprise to a lot of you, it was definitely a surprise to me when I realised it, but that’s what my truth is. I’m a gay man, and I defeated Voldemort. I’m a gay man, and people think that I’m the most powerful wizard of our time.”

Harry caught Malfoy’s hot gaze. He couldn’t read Malfoy’s expression, but it was obvious he had his attention. It looked like Malfoy was riveted by Harry’s little speech.

Harry gulped. “So why am I up here blabbering on about this? Some of you might even be thinking, ‘Oh, why can’t the stupid Chosen One just leave off this whole gender and sexuality thing? Nobody _cares_.’ But people do care. Representation matters.” He cleared his tightening throat. “If you identify as heterosexual, it might come as a surprise to you that some people can _hate_ themselves for being gay or lesbian or queer or whatever. Words matter. The little things matter. People who aren’t heterosexual just want to be accepted, and they want to be treated equally, fairly. They want things to be _equitable_.” His mind was spinning, and he had no idea if he was making sense or not.

Staring into Malfoy’s eyes, Harry finished by saying, “When you’re gay, sometimes it’s hard to even say it out loud … sometimes the most difficult thing in your life is just talking to the person you fancy, admitting your feelings to that person, because being vulnerable means more … because sometimes living in this world holding identities other than cis and straight can be dangerous and lonely, and all you want is to feel safe and for that special someone to fancy you back.”

Seamus raised his hand. “What is ‘cis’?”

Hermione piped up: “Come to our next HAGS meeting and you will find out!”

“Yeah,” Harry said, growing pink. “That's the name of our club. HAGS stands for Hogwarts Alliance for Gender and Sexuality. I forgot to say that.”

Seamus looked like he wanted to ask something else, but Professor Whiteshank stepped in. “Thank you, Harry. You may go back to your seat now.”

Harry barely felt his feet as he stumbled back to his chair. He passed Malfoy, but Malfoy ducked his head and didn’t look his way. Harry saw that the tips of his ears were flaming red.

For the rest of the class, Harry could barely pay attention. His mind wouldn’t stop churning. The entire class knew things about him now - private things. He felt like he’d been gutted, and everyone could see right into him. He just wanted Malfoy to turn around and look at him, but Malfoy never did.

*

The next couple of days brought blustering winds and pelting rain. The castle grew even more dark, even more damp, and Harry wore thick jumpers under his robes and stayed close to the fires.

Harry was grumpy and disappointed. After his speech in Defence, he had expected Malfoy to seek him out, but of course that turned out to be a stupid expectation. Malfoy stayed away. His speech had been embarrassing … _of course_ Malfoy had stayed away.

Harry was once again in front of the fireplace in the common room. It was after dinner, and most students were down in the library studying for exams and writing end of term essays. Harry’s own Transfiguration essay lay forgotten on the table in front of him.

Hermione crawled through the portrait hole holding a box. Smiling, she looked bemused. “Look what I found just outside our common room.” She dropped the box in front of him.

The box contained badges that flashed HAGS and the time and location of the club’s meetings. The badges were well-made and familiar. Frowning, Harry picked one up and brushed his thumb over it.

“They look like the _Potter Stinks_ ones. Remember those?” Harry said.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Hermione said softly.

“Is it possible the same person also made these?”

“Yes, I think it’s possible.” Hermione sounded funny, and Harry looked up at her.

“What?”

Hermione smiled a little. “Don’t you remember who made those _Potter Stinks_ badges?”

“I always thought it was a Slytherin.”

“It was Malfoy.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “So you’re saying you think he’s behind these HAGS badges?”

She shrugged. “I think you should go find him and ask him.”

Harry gulped. “I don’t know where he is … I also don’t think he wants to see me.”

“I think he does want to see you. I just came from the library. I saw him in the back near the potions section, and he was looking _quite_ distracted.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“I saw the way he was looking at you in Defence. The way both of you look at each other.”

“Right.” Harry’s heart was beating faster.

“Harry,” she said gently. “I think it’s worth a shot.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just go talk to him. I’m almost certain he is the one who made those badges.”

Harry chucked the badge back into the box and stood. He didn’t know what he was doing, but if Hermione was insisting he needed to talk to Malfoy … then he would go talk to him. Maybe she knew something he didn’t.

Harry packed up his homework and threw his bag over his shoulder and tucked an arm around the box. “All right, I’m off to the library to look for him.”

“Good.” Hermione was beaming.

*

The library was busier than usual and students stared at him as he passed. The gas lamps on the walls were spitting and the shadows loomed large over the carpets. Harry ignored his own trembling as he sought out Malfoy; but he didn’t spot Malfoy anywhere, even in the potions section. Hermione must have been mistaken.

He went back out to the corridor, the box now feeling cumbersome in his arms. He fell back against the old stone wall. He was disappointed and entirely too nervous. He hated that almost everyone in the library had stared at him. He was used to the stares but more people were doing it now, and the stares felt different. They reminded him of when everyone thought he was the Heir of Slytherin back in second year.

There was the sound of wandering feet and Harry looked up distractedly. He froze. Malfoy stood in front of him.

“Hello,” Harry said.

Malfoy was blushing. “Hello.”

“We found your badges.”

Malfoy frowned. “What?”

“I mean, we think they are your badges.” Harry moved closer and opened the box so Malfoy could see inside. “Did you make these?”

“No.”

Harry looked closely at him and Malfoy avoided his eyes. “Are you sure? Because they look a lot like the ones you made in fourth year. _Potter Stinks_ and all that. Remember those?”

Malfoy put his nose in the air. “I didn’t make those.”

Harry smiled because he didn’t believe him. “Okay. Whatever you say.” He set the box down on the ground. “In any case, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“Why?” Malfoy looked nervous.

Looking around, Harry pointed to a nearby alcove. “Do you mind if we move somewhere more private?” He nodded to the opening in the wall.

“Whatever.”

The alcove was chilly and dark. A lone window let in cloudy moonlight. Harry turned to him. “Look, Malfoy.” He moved closer and put his hand on Malfoy’s warm shoulder. He heard Malfoy’s quick intake of breath. “I just want to know something,” Harry murmured.

“Fuck,” Malfoy whispered.

He moved even closer, his hand smoothing up to Malfoy’s hot neck. He felt Malfoy’s rapid heartbeat against his fingers.

“Harry?”

Harry jumped away from Malfoy and blinked owlishly in the direction of the voice. It was Goldstein, and Harry almost cursed out loud.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Goldstein said quickly. “I was hoping I could talk to you for a moment, Harry.”

Harry looked at Malfoy but it was too dark to see his expression. The moment had been shattered; he felt how Malfoy had already withdrawn. _Damnit, Goldstein!_ Harry thought.

“Yes, all right.” Harry tried to look right into Malfoy’s eyes. “I’ll be right back. Please don’t go anywhere.”

He scrambled out from the alcove and followed Goldstein down the corridor.

“What were you doing in that dark alcove with Malfoy?” Goldstein sounded worried.

“We were trading potion recipes,” Harry said sarcastically. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

Gulping, Goldstein said, “Well … I was hoping you’d go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

Goldstein drew closer. He rested a hand on Harry’s arm. “Your heroic speech in Defence inspired me. Honestly, everything you do inspires me.”

“What?”

“I fancy you, Harry.” Goldstein was a little taller than Harry, and now he was tilting his head downward, his lips coming dangerously close to Harry’s.

Angry footsteps pounded down the corridor. Harry pushed Goldstein away so he could see who it was.

“Malfoy, wait!” Harry called.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Goldstein said.

Harry’s mind was a disaster. He could barely control his thoughts. “Look, Tony. I’m sorry but I don’t fancy you back.” He took a deep breath and tried to soften his voice, but his mind was focussed on the fact that Malfoy was getting away. “Look - I’m so sorry. I know I’m being abrupt but you … took me by surprise.”

Goldstein looked like he was about to cry. “I thought that’s why you asked me to hold your hand in front of the school.”

“I told you that it was for the club,” Harry said quickly, then felt like a total prat. “I’m sorry. I really am. We will talk about this later, but right now I have to find Malfoy.”

Goldstein’s expression cleared. “Oh, I see.”

“Yeah.” Harry bit his lip.

Goldstein stepped back and waved him on with a hand. “Don’t let him get away then.”

“Thank you, Tony!” Harry dashed down the corridor, not caring that he was leaving his bag in the alcove. He turned the corner and didn’t see Malfoy. Where did he go? Probably down to the Slytherin common room!

Harry sped down the slick steps to the dungeons. The air was more damp down here but his body was burning up. When he reached the bottom level, he spotted Malfoy’s white blond head at the end of the corridor, right at the door to the Slytherin common room.

“Malfoy!”

Malfoy stopped, his hand on the doorknob.

“Please wait! I need to talk to you!”

Malfoy turned and crossed his arms over his chest. He was sneering viciously. “What is it, Potter?”

Harry reached him. He didn’t even think about it. He took Malfoy’s face between his hands and drew him into a kiss. He breathed hard and hot energy burned through him. It took a moment for him to even feel Malfoy’s lips against his.

Harry drew back to look into Malfoy’s eyes. “Let me do it again,” he murmured.

“Yes,” Malfoy breathed.

Slower, Harry brought their lips together. This time he felt how Malfoy’s mouth trembled, how Malfoy’s entire body trembled. Harry pressed closer, wanting to calm him, wanting to comfort him. “Draco,” he whispered.

Panting, Malfoy broke away. He looked overwhelmed; he looked wild. He took Harry’s hand and dragged him into yet another alcove, this one sticky with lake damp. He shoved Harry against the wall and snogged him hard.

“Oh,” Harry said.

“Yes.” Malfoy licked into his mouth, seeking out his tongue. Their tongues brushed, tasting, claiming. Now Harry was the one trembling.

“Tell me you fancy me,” Harry whispered.

“Of course I fancy you, you stupid, stupid git.”

“You’ve been avoiding me. You can’t even look at me.”

“Shut up,” Malfoy growled, pressing Harry hard into the wall again. “You’re the one who flirted with me and almost snogged me when you were dating someone else.”

“I’m not dating Goldstein.”

“Why did you hold his hand then? The whole school thinks you’re dating.”

“It’s not real. We did it for the club. That’s all.”

Malfoy’s hands dug into Harry’s shoulders. “Why did he interrupt us? Hmm? I saw him kissing you. I’m not an idiot.”

“He didn’t kiss me. I didn’t let him.” Harry took a deep breath. “I set things straight with him. I told him I didn’t fancy him. He knows I fancy you.”

“Does he now?” Malfoy’s voice sounded harsh.

“Malfoy - _Draco_.” Harry touched his hot cheek, then his smooth chin. He caressed down his chest. He needed to tell Malfoy everything. He needed to make Malfoy _understand_. “I want you, Draco. Don’t you get it? All that stuff I said in Defence was for you. I want people to know that I want you.”

“Potter,” Malfoy said, sounding scared.

“Please. Just - come closer. I want to feel you.”

“Oh, fuck.” Malfoy pressed Harry against the wall, lining up their bodies. They were both hard, and Harry gasped and clutched him helplessly. Malfoy thrust; he actually _thrust_.

“I feel you,” Harry said.

“Shh,” Malfoy said, thrusting again. He held Harry in place, not letting him move. Harry closed his eyes and lost himself to the stimulation. He hooked an ankle around Malfoy’s leg, arching to meet his thrust. Malfoy dragged their robes up, shoving all that fabric out of the way. His hands came around to cup Harry’s arse through his trousers.

“Oh,” Harry said.

Malfoy was thrusting harder, quicker. He grunted low in his throat. Harry reached between them to squeeze Malfoy’s cock through his trousers, wanting to take full advantage of the moment. He had no idea if Malfoy would let him touch him again.

“Yes,” Malfoy hissed, and jerked at the buttons of his trousers. They got his trousers open and Harry reached for his cock without thinking. Oh, fuck. Malfoy was hot and silky in his palm, and he was _wet_. Harry had no idea what he was doing; but he stroked Malfoy slowly, his thumb gathering that wet. He wished he could see Malfoy’s expression.

“You like this?” Harry whispered.

“Harry,” Malfoy gasped. He pressed his forehead to Harry’s shoulder, hiding his face. He fucked his hand jerkily, desperately. “I can’t - oh _god_.”

Harry felt Malfoy harden in his palm; he felt the blood pumping in his cock. Then Malfoy was coming; he was coming all over Harry’s fingers, and Malfoy was making the most unbelievable noises.

Malfoy wasn’t done thrusting before his own hand was wrapping around Harry’s cock. Harry hadn’t a clue how his trousers ended up open but his gaze zeroed in on Malfoy’s pale, elegant fingers wrapping around him.

“Oh, shit,” Harry said, and came. It was too soon, but he couldn’t control himself: _Draco Malfoy was wanking him_.

Malfoy moaned deeply and tugged his cock through his orgasm, milking him. Harry slumped against the wall, his knees shaking. Malfoy drew back and pulled closed his own trousers. All Harry could do was stand there with his cock out and stare at him.

After a moment, Malfoy snorted and tucked Harry’s cock away and buttoned up his trousers. He carefully pulled Harry’s robes back down. Harry kissed him. He thrust, still turned on, ready to go again.

Malfoy pulled back. He pressed their foreheads together.

“I want to date you,” Harry said, blabbering, still riding high from his orgasm. “I want to take you to Hogsmeade. I want to sit next to you during a school Quidditch match.”

“Yes,” Malfoy whispered.

Laughing, Harry said, “Tell me the truth - aren’t you the one who made those badges?”

“Nope.” Malfoy turned his head away, smiling.

“Come on! Just admit it.”

“Never.” The smile dropped from Malfoy’s face.

“You aren’t still jealous of Goldstein, are you?”

Malfoy bit his lip. “Maybe a little.”

“Tomorrow. Hold my hand in the Great Hall. We will show everyone that you are the one I fancy.”

Malfoy gulped. “Yes.”

*

The next night, Harry and Draco stood in front of the doors of the Great Hall. Harry took Draco’s warm hand. “Are you ready?”

Draco smiled. “Yes.”

Harry squeezed his hand. “It’s okay to be nervous.”

“Yes,” Draco said, closing his eyes for a moment.

Harry kissed him, then kissed their fingers. “All right, let’s go.”

They pushed open the doors and entered the Great Hall. They walked down the centre aisle, heads held high. They were both flushed, but Draco was still smiling.

Harry caught Goldstein’s eye and Goldstein gave him a thumbs up. Hermione and Ron were smiling. He also saw the first year who had approached him in the library; they were now wearing a lovely pink bow in their hair. Harry even saw Bulstrode standing on her seat at the Slytherin table and cheering.

“Okay?” Harry said to Draco.

“More than okay.” Draco pulled him into a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please support the author by clicking on the kudos button and leaving a comment below! ♥


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